WOLF’S DEAL
A Novella Featuring Homicide Detective Nick Lupo
By W.D. Gagliani
The action in this novella takes place between
the novels Wolf's Gambit and Wolf's Bluff.
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Wolf’s Deal Ó 2014, 2015 by W.D. Gagliani
First Ebook Edition: June 2015
Cover by Steven W. Booth, Genius Book Services
All Images, iStockPhoto
License Notes
This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any mean, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contact:
Tarkus Press LLC
PO Box 214
Oak Creek, WI 53154
http://www.wdgagliani.com (includes blog & newsletter subscription)
http://www.williamdgagliani.com
http://www.facebook.com/wdgagliani
Twitter: @WDGagliani
Other books by W.D. Gagliani
Wolf’s Trap (Samhain Publishing)
Wolf’s Gambit (47North)
Wolf’s Bluff (47North)
Wolf’s Edge (Samhain Publishing)
Wolf’s Cut (Samhain Publishing)
Wolf’s Blind (Samhain Publishing)
Savage Nights (Tarkus Press)
Shadowplays (Collection; Tarkus Press)
The Great Belzoni and the Gait of Anubis (Novella)
Mysteries & Mayhem (Collection, with David Benton; Tarkus Press)
See website for more…
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GAG ORDER! The W.D. Gagliani Email Newsletter
Visit www.wdgagliani.com
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“Gagliani has cemented his place in werewolf legend with a muscular and
smart series that deserves a much bigger audience...” (HorrorWorld)
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WOLF’S DEAL:
A Nick Lupo Novella
Dedication
For my uncle, Gianni Iacono, who left us suddenly in mid-2014… He was a calm and logical voice on the phone when we needed it most, and one fine, short week in the late 70s he shared with me magical alabaster caverns. I will always remember his kindness and generosity, and I share his loving family’s pain more than I can say.
Acknowledgments
With great thanks to David Benton – friend, collaborator, co-conspirator who also often goes far beyond the call of duty. For instance, giving me the title of the next Lupo novel, Wolf’s Blind, which couldn’t have been more appropriate. David is the Alpha of Beta readers.
Thanks to Tony D’Amato of The Gun Store (Las Vegas) for all knowledge and things firearm-related, especially giving me the opportunity to fire the MP40, H&K MP5, Thompson, Sten, M3 Grease Gun, Skorpion, Mauser Broomhandle, a fine selection of excellent Beretta submachine guns, and more… as well as for being a fan of the series.
Also thanks to the friendly and hard-working crew of the Oak Creek Starbucks at 8880 South Howell, my office away from home since late 2008.
In addition, I would like to acknowledge the late, great composer Jerry Goldsmith and the eternal Tangerine Dream for continued musical inspiration. (2015 additional note: I am greatly saddened to have to add this… Rest in peace, Edgar Froese. I’m sure you are sending out your tangerine dreams to the universe now.)
Author’s Note
The action in this novella takes place between the novels Wolf’s Gambit and Wolf’s Bluff, involving a case for Nick Lupo that also introduces Charlie Black Bear, who reappears in Wolf’s Cut, as well as someone who first appears in Wolf’s Bluff. Most of the events in Deal stand apart from all three novels, but are also related in some subtle ways.
Geographical Disclaimer
Although most Milwaukee locations mentioned in this novella actually exist, I have intentionally distorted some of them for my own purposes. As always, you might consider that this Milwaukee, like Eagle River in most of the Lupo novels, is somewhat of an alternate version of the real place. Any resemblance to actual people or places is therefore accidental and not intended to reflect reality in any way. This is why we call it Fiction!
WOLF’S DEAL:
A Nick Lupo Novella
PRELUDE: THE ARCHER
The killer was driving a nondescript van, dirty sky blue in color, a middle period Ford Econoline model. Its two sides had once borne a company logo, but now mismatched blue paint covered the areas. The plates were Minnesota, stolen just that morning, and the whole thing would be abandoned soon. Clean.
At the wheel, the killer wore a black hoodie which might make him an immediate suspect in some northeastern suburbs, but here on Canal Street in the Valley, near the hulking block of the casino, it was about as average as a Packers windbreaker anywhere else. He also wore latex gloves to help keep his DNA off anything he touched.
The air had been pleasantly crisp all day, but now it was turning cold for the middle of fall, and the killer shivered in that good way – the way that told him he was starting to feel the excitement of imminent action, combined with feeling the cold air that blew in through the van's lowered front windows. It fanned across his face and he huddled deeper into the hoodie.
He drove the van with the windows down, heading away from the casino. The sidewalk was irregular, snaking past the scattered remnants of the area’s deeply industrial past. The casino itself was a more recent addition from the early days of gaming’s invasion of the lands Federal treaties had granted Native American tribes. It was a huge square wart on the landscape, tricked out in faux Indian trappings. Like the teepee-tower with the fake flames lighting up its atrium, a beacon drawing in gamblers from all over. Technically an eyesore, it was impressive all the same. The killer pondered how it could be ugly and impressive at the same time. He prided himself on pondering complex subjects, rather than just accepting things as they were.
Okay, there she was.
Tanya was the name by which he knew her, from her blackjack dealing. She was tall and tough-looking, but exotic in the high cheekbones that suggested Slavic heritage. Her skin had suffered from some acne in her youth, but she’d managed to erase most of its effects so that you had to look closely to really notice. The killer had looked closely over numerous sessions but often he'd been in disguise so she wouldn’t have recognized him.
She was walking from one of the open-air parking lots, where she'd left her aging silver Accord. She wore a three-quarter length black wool coat, open so her white blouse was visible. The killer couldn't see her face, but he knew her schedule. He imagined he could see her ice-blue eyes and her slightly crooked nose and the wide mouth. She had a nice laugh.
Somehow, the thought made him angrier.
He reached across the passenger seat and picked up the crossbow.
He was still too far away, and she wasn’t paying attention to the traffic. There wasn’t any, since her shift was evening and there was a lull in the gambling. Traffic, like the gaming, would pick up after dinner. His van was just a vehicle on the road. She might have been thinking of her job, of her apartment, of her youth in fucking Moscow.
Whatever.
She wasn't thinking about him, or his van. She didn't know him from Adam, even though he had won and lost fair amoun
ts at her table.
The crossbow was already cocked and now he seated a hunting bolt into the breech at the rear of the track, engaging the nocking device so the lethal projectile would be propelled along the groove and to its target.
Tanya.
He could see her name tag pinned to the chest of her white work blouse. He imagined that white blouse pinched in his fingers, pure white, bleached white. Her uniform bowtie was a black blob in front of her neck.
He leaned the crossbow on his window frame and sighted through the special hunting scope. He barely needed the scope. He was an expert.
He slowed the van, ground to a halt across the street from her. His mirrors were clear. The street in front of him was clear.
She started to look up now, maybe an instinctive alarm raised from within. A survival instinct. Started to turn toward the van, her eyes focusing on him. Not quite seeing him, a shadow behind the wheel.
He squeezed the trigger.
He saw her eyes widen, the whites very bright in the darkness, and then she staggered and he heard her grunt.
The bolt’s bright fletching was like a flower suddenly growing out of her chest. She stood unsteadily for a few seconds, whimpering.
He could hear her whimper from the van.
The killer saw that her white blouse was now blackening. He stepped on the accelerator and slowly headed away from the scene. In the mirror, he watched her stagger again, take a wobbly step and topple over onto her back. Almost in slow motion, like in a movie.
Tanya, he thought.
He felt the stiffness in his groin and enjoyed the pressure inside his clothes.
He was more than a mile away before he heard a siren and wondered if it was for Tanya.
Sweet Tanya.
LUPO
They were attacking a medium thin crust in the narrow Third Ward pizzeria when Lupo’s iPhone trilled with the Bairnson Eye in the Sky guitar solo. He wiped grease from his finger and tapped the screen.
“Yeah?” He chewed and listened. “Huh. What?” Now he raised an eyebrow.
DiSanto stuffed the majority of his current slice into his mouth and chewed, his hand also scooping up one of the last three wedges. Dinner interruptus. They were in agreement that it was one of the worst things cops have to face regularly. Right up there with autopsies and broken marriages.
Lupo listened for another minute, then grunted a final acknowledgment. He tapped out, then grabbed a wedge and tore into it. He chewed thoughtfully.
“What?” DiSanto said, impatient, speaking from the side of his full mouth.
Lupo took his time and swallowed. “We got work down at the casino. They’ve got a corpse. What else is new?” He waved at the waitress, who was behind the bar pouring a series of shots for a loud table at the rear of the long, narrow place. She glanced over and nodded as he mimed signing off on the check.
DiSanto finished chewing, swallowed, and bit a piece off his reserve slice. With his other hand he reached for the next slice. But then he burped, patted his chest, and backed off. “I hate when they barely cook the sauce. Indigestion city.”
“You Italians,” said Lupo. “Such snobs.”
“Damn right.” DiSanto nodded, took a long melodramatic drink of his iced tea. “Why aren’t we moving on out?”
“Seems the casino security cops are saying the vic’s an employee. The hit took place on casino land, but it’s also a city street. Messy. We’re getting it ironed out. Loot’s getting square on an official invite for us to get involved.”
“That’s bullshit. Not like they have their own ME or lab.” DiSanto shrugged and went for the last wedge after all.
“Thought you didn’t like the sauce,” Lupo pointed out. DiSanto never gained an ounce, so he was jealous.
“Didn’t say I didn't like it, just that it’ll probably mess with me later,” DiSanto said, chewing. “And the crust is fucking fab.”
“Secret to a great pizza, the crust,” agreed Lupo, and they clinked their tea glasses.
The waitress brought their check and Lupo handed her his Visa card. “Wait till I tell you the rest,” he said after she’d left to process the payment.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Sounds like a weird one.”
The guitar solo started again and he tapped the screen.
“Yeah? Okay, get the ME people on their way, and the Crime Scene techs. We’re rolling too.”
“You gonna let me in on this?” DiSanto said as Lupo smugly slid the phone out of sight.
Lupo ignored him and smiled at the waitress when she brought his card back. “See ya later, Nick,” she said with a bashful wave.
“ ‘See ya later, Nick?’ ” DiSanto blurted out as they hit the street and popped the doors on Lupo’s old Maxima. “That’s sweet.”
“So I eat here kinda often enough they know me. It’s what’s known as being a regular, DiSanto. Got a problem with that?”
“Not a thing," his partner said as he belted in. “Not at all, Nick,” he mimicked the waitress. “See ya later, Nick!” He snickered.
Lupo grunted, otherwise ignoring him, and turned over the engine. “Since you asked, what’s weird about this one is that, according to Dispatch, the casino cops say the vic got it with a crossbow.”
He got the desired effect – a comical open mouth double-take. “The fuck – really? No way.”
“Yeah, fuckin’ crossbow.”
Lupo floored the accelerator. Now that word had come down they were welcome, he wanted to beat the ME’s crew to the scene. It was likely. They were closer and getting closer by the minute.
“Who gets killed with a crossbow arrow these days?”
Lupo smirked as he shaved a corner ahead of the light. "That would be crossbow bolt.”
“Bolt? What—”
“They’re not called arrows,” Lupo explained. “Properly, they’re called bolts. Shorter, heavier. Fuckin’ deadly, when they’re accurate.”
He didn’t tell DiSanto, but he knew a few things about crossbows. Hadn’t been all that long before that he’d watched Jessie Hawkins drill a psychopath through the head with a crossbow bolt. It had scrambled his brains just as well as a bullet, fortunately for them both.
“Crossbow,” DiSanto muttered, shaking his head. “Really? The fuck is that all about..?” He continued to mutter.
They met the crime lab people and a group of casino security guys at the scene. The street was still mostly empty, though the occasional car was slowing down to gawk at their light trees strung across the crime scene.
Lupo flashed his badge and a surly casino cop nodded at a tall Native American who wore an expensive gray suit and sported a graying pony-tail. “He’s in charge.”
They walked up to him, their badges in view. The tall guy seemed relieved to see them.
Lupo introduced himself and DiSanto.
“Charlie Bear, head of casino security,” the pony-tailed guy said, shaking hands with them both. “Technically it’s Charlie Black Bear, but I usually drop the middle part. Indians make people nervous.” His glance turned back to Lupo and he flashed a crooked grin, as if apologizing.
Lupo was stroking his chin, squinting a little. “You look familiar,” he said, his head slightly tilted.
Bear shrugged. “Ever been up to Watersmeet?”
“Yeah, sure, all the time.” Just over the border in the Upper Peninsula portion of Michigan, north of Vilas County, Watersmeet had been the only nearby Indian casino for a few years. Wisconsinites wore out the roads getting there, until the recent Eagle River project.
“I started out in casino security up there where the waters meet. But I did the cop thing in Minneapolis for years before that.”
“Okay, we must’ve crossed paths in the UP. I’ve had, uh, some things going on in Eagle River that I’ve been involved with over the years.”
“Bit of an understatement, isn’t it, Detective Lupo? I know you by reputation.” Now Charlie Bear smiled widely. “Quite the rep, really, since this merce
nary thing blew up down there. Sounded like a James Bond flick from what I read.”
Lupo chuckled, nodding. Uncomfortable. Wanting to change the subject, but… “You remind me of somebody I knew.”
“Hope that’s a good thing."
“It is, believe me.”
“Why the past tense?”
Lupo frowned. “He was killed in that firefight down near Eagle River a while back. His name was Sam Waters, one of the tribal elders on the rez. One of the great ones. I’m sure you remember what went down.” He still couldn’t quite acknowledge what had really happened on that beach. Bear nodded. Silence hung between them awkwardly. Lupo looked at where the crime scene techs were clustered, then changed the subject abruptly. “What you got?”
Bear shook his head once more in commiseration, but then got on task. “Strange, is what I got. The vic’s name is Tanya, uh, Rosskov. She’s a blackjack dealer. Pretty good at it, kept herself in shape and out of trouble. Coming to work, normal shift, and some asshole killed her with a fucking crossbow.”
“How’d you know it’s a crossbow?”
“I was military before the cop phase. Rangers. I may have come across a black crossbow or two in my time. Between you and me.” He chuckled. His guys were hanging around in a knot. “Hey,” he called out, “keep sweeping the area for anything out of the ordinary.” He turned to Lupo and DiSanto. “Novices. They don’t go through hoops like they used to. Once you had to have been a cop before they’d hire you here, or any Indian casino. Then they got popular and started hiring run of the mill security guards, no experience necessary.”
“Rosskov, huh?” DiSanto said. “Russian?”
Wolf's Deal: A Nick Lupo Novella (The Nick Lupo Series) Page 1
